


Welcome to The Dream

by Star_Crab



Series: Of Gods and Fiends [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-16 13:36:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18095336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Crab/pseuds/Star_Crab
Summary: This is the Mob AU no one asked for, but was born because it's something we all need in our lives.





	Welcome to The Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyd_lee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyd_lee/gifts).



> Lyds is the mother of this AU and she hopefully likes this. Her and prettiewittie are major influences for this. So here we go!

**_New York, NY, 1947_ **

  


**T** he city is always busy, the two men walking had learned. Compared to London, New York is always bustling even in the witching hour. Dressed in pressed suits, they made their way to Eddie’s Sweet Shop on Metropolitan Ave already knowing they were late, but also knew that it did not really matter as long as they were there. The old man behind the counter gave them a nod when they entered and let them walk to the downstairs level that was kept hidden behind a shelf of hard butterscotch sweets.

This is where Eddie’s Sweet Shop transitioned from candy store to The Dream, a club with plush velvet chairs and a round center stage where different girls would perform. A bar with glass decanters and many bottles was against the far wall where two other men, also dressed in suits, were waiting with drinks in their hands. Instead of lush and lavish chandeliers, the lighting were actually just simple hanging bulbs that gave the type of ambiance they were looking for when building the club. The tables were round with no decor, just a few coasters so there would not be any cup rings on the fine wood.

“‘Bout time you joined us,” one of the men at the bar said laying down a card as the other two approached. “Death is on his way.”

Of course he is, but God forbid one of them be late to a meeting. Fucking hypocrite.

“Well, woke up early for no reason then, eh, Famine?”

“Don’t pissed because you couldn’t stay with your latest, War,” his compatriot says lightly with a smile. “Can see all the evidence.”

War smirks sharply, knowing that his fellow Londoner saw the aftermath of his night out. Bruises and bites along his neck disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. A split lip and red rings around his wrist, along with red mark from where her heel dug into his skin. “Don’t be jealous, mate, you could have joined in. All you need to do is ask, and get another  _conquest.”_

The man rolls his eyes at the play on his alias, smacking the back of his head. “I can do just fine on my own, this you know.”

They all chuckle.

“Who’s performing tonight?” the fourth man asks.

“Some new girl, just moved to the city,” Conquest answers drawing a few cards from the deck between them. “Think ‘er name is Tina or something like that.”

“Let me guess, moved here to the big city to be a Broadway star,” jokes Famine making the other men laugh because it is most likely true. “Small town girl thinking she can make it in the big city. How long do you think she’ll be before giving up and going back home?”

“After performing here?” The fourth man does a quick calculation with a small shrug of his shoulders. “I’d say two months?”

“I say four,” War offers. “Our last one almost lasted nearly half a year.”

Conquest remembers the last performer too well. In fact, he was the reason she had quit performing at the club. He cannot help but smirk at the memory of her dramatic exit.

“A year,” a voice says from behind them as another body dressed in black joins the table.

Famine deals out another hand. “Whose funeral are you attending today?”

“Yours if you aren’t careful,” says Death, lighting a cigarette. “Foster came through, new shipment tomorrow morning.”

Conquest nods, rearranging the cards in his hand. “Good. Eddie’s runnin’ out of sweet up top; War, if you wouldn’t mind getting more before tonight.”

The blonde nods laying a three of spades onto the table. “Famine and I are also going to visit the old man tonight for a quick check in today too. God knows it’s been a while since we’ve seen him.”

  **~**

**_Olympus Company_ **

**_Financial District, Lower Manhattan_ **

**_New York, NY, 1947_ **

 

 **A** tlas sits at a desk, glasses perched delicately on his nose as his music plays over the gramophone. No one really cared for the classics anymore which makes him sad at times, but his girls knew his tastes and appreciates that they try. Much like they are now sitting at his sides as one of his  _clients_ stammers over his words to excuse his late payments to Olympus Company. He gave the poor bastard two months to return the money, now here they are a month past due and the man is grovelling. Atlas tries to not let the power get to his head, but sometimes it is good to be feared in moments like these. He raises a hand and the man before them is instantly quiet. His girls look to him as well, each wearing a similar expression.

“All that I am hearing is excuses,” he says looking over his lenses. “You were given two months to pay us back, but I’m really not interested in that.”

“You’re not?” The quivering man looks relieved until he glances at the girls because one has stood from her seat.

“No,” he confirms, nodding in agreement to the girl. “What I am interested in though is, what did you use the money for? Because records show that you didn’t use it to pay for your darling daughter’s schooling like you said you would use it for.”

Gentle hands push the poor man into a chair harshly as the girl gives a saccharine smile that makes him feel ill. Her eyes are too blue and too excited for what is about to happen next.  Her hands are already wearing a pair of throw away gloves and a dress that has what looks to be an old stain. What is another to a woman who works for a man like that?

“My lovely Eris had coffee with your daughter a few days ago,” Atlas began, placing his hand on one of the girl’s shoulders and pulling his glasses from his face. “She says you haven’t been home in months, Mister Thompson, which can’t be true because you’ve been home supporting your daughter in wanting to go to university, right?”

Thompson can feel the woman’s nails digging into his skin through the gloves as he averts his gaze from the man in front of him. He sees another pair of shoes stop in front of him and a hand grabs his face roughly, fingers squishing the meat of face and forcing him to look back up at the CEO. He knows what is coming next, knows that the women by name won’t let him leave alive.

Eris is still sitting next to Atlas, dark eyes glimmering with enthusiasm of his fate. Behind him is Hera and now the third, Athena, is holding him painfully as he begins to cry. It makes Eris giggle as he sobs, speaking between heaving desperate breaths as he begs for his life.  It will not make a difference to them. He owes a debt and is a liar.

 

Hera peels off her gloves and throws them in the can by the door for maintenance to take care of later. Her shoes stick slightly to the floor as she steps through the blood to her designated seat next to Athena on the right of Atlas. She hums as the body lays on the floor before them as Mozart’s ‘Symphony No. 40 in G Minor’ still pays through the gramophone and wipes her cheek with the handkerchief Athena hands to her. It is pulled away stained red.

“Anyone else?” Atlas asks while reading over the file on Thompson, signing at the bottom of the page to ensure his daughter would have funds for university.

“No,” answers Eris reading over her planner. “Only him until tomorrow when Finch comes in with a report about the docks in Lincoln Harbor, but you do have dinner with Anita at Lindy’s tonight at around 6:30.”

He smiles at her. “Thank you, dear. Also, tonight Athena is doing a job over on Metropolitan. Make sure she looks good tonight, girls.”

**~**

The club is busy when the Horsemen leave the backroom. Behind the bar is Silence, who is already serving drinks with flare and the band is in full swing preparing everyone for the new girl’s performance. Smoke makes the air hazy as cigarettes are being lit and stubbed out at various tables. The men take their seats at a corner table closest to the stage so they can judge and see if the talent can come and perform for them again, and depending one how they feel if she could do private performances. 

Conquest winks at a woman who flushes beneath the attention and tries to get back into conversation with the man she was with, most likely her date, but seemed to be distracted from his attention. Poor lamb won’t last the night. His drink is placed before him on a cheap paper coaster with a caricature of a sleepy cloud with a dark blue background that is supposed to be the night sky without stars. He rolls his sleeves to his elbows, placing them on the table as he takes a long drink of the chilled whiskey. 

Across from him War and Famine burst into laughter as a man gets a drink splashed in his face by a woman who is now trying to hurriedly leave the club. Death is silent as ever, surveying the room for any hinky activities happening in their place of business. Soon they are playing another round of cards and betting on trivial things, like who will have to pay the lunch tab for the next week or who has to do everyone’s laundry when it came time for it to be done. Though, partially through their game, the lights begin to dim and the conversations lower whispers and then it is quiet as a spotlight is centered on the green velvet curtain across the stage. 

“Do we even know what she looks like?” War asks the table leaning forward. 

“No,” answers Conquest. “She came in while we were in the back and has been getting ready since. Hasn’t even asked for her free drinks.” 

Famine goes to say something but is interrupted by a voice. 

“You had plenty money nineteen twenty-two,” the green fabric is pulled open by as leg as the bass picks up and whistles filled the club when she steps from behind the curtain. “You let other women make a fool of you.” 

All focus is on her as she leans against the corner wall of the stage while she sings. One of the men at a different table reaches out to touch, but is stopped and pushed back roughly into his seat by a heel clad foot. It is not until she begins walks down stage that the Horsemen see the extensive slit of her sequined red dress that runs up her leg and stopping just below her hip. She looks at their table with intention in her eyes. 

Famine holds out his hand to help her from the stage, gulping when her feet steps on the cushion of his seat between his legs and cannot hide his arousal, nor the low groan in his throat, when her foot drags over the top of his thigh. Still she sings while walking around their table and all four are transfixed, War and Famine with more obvious reactions to her. Death is able to hide how he feels easily, focusing on his drink while she drapes herself across the back of his chair, but it is with Conquest where she has her fun. 

“I fell for you jivin’ and I took you in,” she sings sitting across his lap, hands sliding down his chest and back up to hold his tie. She does not hesitate the lyrics as she continues the song and he pulls her closer on his lap until their noses bump, not hiding his physicality from her touches with a smirk. “Why don’t you do right, like some other men do? Get out of here, and get me some money too.” 

The woman stands from his lap, hand still holding his tie that when she moves back the stage he is pulled forward. “Why don’t you do right like some other men do?” 

Whistles again fill the air as she kisses the collar of his shirt, leaving a bright red print on the white fabric. She releases his tie and she stands, still looking at Conquest as she moves back to the velvet curtain. 

“Like some other men do,” she draws out the final note before disappearing behind the curtain. 

The lights all go out when the band finishes the songs. The applause that erupts is louder than the Horsemen have ever heard, not even for their last performer. 


End file.
